


Ginger Ale

by 4000tacobells



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Domestic, Gen, Pre-Sburb, Sickfic, Vomiting, child!dave, sick!bro, some foreshadowing i guess, the vomiting isn't graphic don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:30:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4000tacobells/pseuds/4000tacobells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro is sick, and Dave is terrified. The older Strider attempts to comfort his little brother with a fairytale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ginger Ale

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how I got here.  
> Have some sweet Strider brotherly love.

The young man known as Bro Strider sat back on his heels and wondered what he had done to deserve this torture. The air in the small bathroom was thick with the smell of vomit and he quickly flushed the toilet, destroying the evidence of his lost lunch. He tried to stand but the pain in his gut was a little too intense for that just yet. Instead, he settled for wiping his face clean, making sure his shades were in place and reminding himself to breathe. In and out, in and out. It wasn’t really soothing the pain, but it was a start. He glanced out into the hallway, realizing he’d left the door open in his haste to empty his guts. He grimaced. If the door was open, that probably meant a certain someone was hiding outside.

“I’m okay now, lil’ man,” he called, his voice a bit raw. The five year-old Dave Strider’s fluffy blonde head popped out from around the door frame. Reluctantly, he stepped into the bathroom and sort of gaped, his shades slipping down his little nose. Bro realized that Dave had never seen him sick before. As far as Dave was concerned, Bro didn’t get food poisoning. He didn’t puke. Hell, he didn’t even catch colds. If anyone was going to get sick, it’d be the little brother, with the older one playing the role of caretaker. This ordeal – even though Bro had handled it like a pro – was alien and probably completely terrifying for Dave.

“I’m fine, kiddo.”  
The younger boy seemed unconvinced. “But you’re sick. Are… Are you gonna die?”  
Bro snorted, and winced as it brought up a little bit of residual bile. “Naw, I won’t die. Just gotta rest until this goes away is all.”  
The little boy’s hands were trembling, and he looked almost close to tears as he replied. “But… But you never get sick! Wh-what should I do?”  
A thought occurred to Bro. It was crazy enough to work. “Actually, you can help. It’s a game, see? I’m the prince of… uh, Stridonia. Yeah. And I was cursed by the wicked witch.”  
Dave stepped forward, and the older Strider smiled slightly. He had the kid’s interest. “A witch?”  
“Yeah, a big crazy witch. She made me sick so I couldn’t protect my people, giving her the chance to take over. Which is where you come in.” He paused for a moment, a spike of pain shooting through his stomach. When he’d caught his breath he looked back up at his little brother, who was looking worried again.  
“You’re the knight of Stridonia. A cool, brave knight, and you’re my only hope.”  
A smile began to tug at Dave’s mouth. “What do I have to do?”  
Bro considered for a moment. “The only known cure is the healing elixir known as…” he dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “… ginger ale. It’s in the fridge, if you can make it past the frost giants lurking in the vegetable crisper. Are you up to the challenge, Sir Dave?” 

You didn’t need to ask Dave twice. The small boy saluted (Bro made a mental note to teach him about knight etiquette) and dashed out into the kitchen. He was back in a matter of seconds with an aluminum can, handing it over with a proud smile on his little face.  
“Stridonia be praised, the knight has returned.” Bro did his best to smile, wiping the cold can against his forehead for a moment before cracking it open and taking a few sips. The bubbles burnt his throat, but it would be worth the temporary relief from nausea. He reached out and patted Dave’s shoulder. “Thanks, little knight.”

Dave beamed, inordinately proud at having helped his brother.

Dave the knight, huh? He could get used to that.


End file.
